


Virtuoso

by IStillPlayWithLegos



Series: Short Drabbles by IStillPlayWithLegos [10]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Choking, Crying, Dabi as the Phantom of the Opera, Dabi/Phantom does the weird mind control thingy that he did on Christine during Music of the Night, Drabble, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Master/Slave, Short One Shot, Vaginal Fingering, ish, light hypnosis, suggestion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29245917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IStillPlayWithLegos/pseuds/IStillPlayWithLegos
Summary: Your fingers made contact with the rough skin for a split second—And then you were gasping for air, a rough hand on your neck crushing your windpipe with brute strength.
Relationships: Dabi/Reader
Series: Short Drabbles by IStillPlayWithLegos [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915618
Kudos: 24





	Virtuoso

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh so Dabi as the Phantom will not leave my brain.

“You sang well tonight,” he praised, drawing a breathy moan from you as he trailed his fingers through your slit. “A reward is in order, don’t you think? For L’Opera Populaire’s most captivating soprano.”

Any words you wanted to respond with were caught behind this haze you were caught in. It was alright, though. Your teacher would take care of you. You knew he would. You trusted him with your entire soul.

Shivers ran up and down your spine as he parted you, his fingers dragging through your wetness. You had never felt anything like this before. The other girls in the opera house had often giggled between themselves about how much better a man’s fingers felt inside of you.

There was a single time when you tried to decipher what they meant. One late night alone in your bed had your fingers creeping over your panties, but something had stopped you. A voice in your head—Your teacher’s.

You listened to it, of course. He commanded every aspect of your life. If he ordered it, you would obey without hesitation. You respected his wishes that night and went to bed aching with something you didn’t understand.

Dabi had smiled gleefully all night after that. You were perfect. So easy to mold. So eager to obey. He had trained your voice to perfection. Now he would train your body and mind as well. He would teach you how to entrance an audience. How to tease. Seduce.

And behind the curtain—How to pleasure him. How to use your body. Your mouth. Your hands. To be his muse. To inspire compositions. Entire operas, even. He had spent years pouring all of his carnal desires into his music. Now he had you.

Through heavily lidded eyes, you caught glimpses of the gnarled, purple scars he hid beneath his white mask. Weakly, you managed to reach out to him, fingers prepared to run along the edge of the staples and scarred flesh.

Your fingers made contact with the rough skin for a split second—And then you were gasping for air, a rough hand on your neck crushing your windpipe with brute strength. Little gasps escaped where they could under his unforgiving grip.

“You try my patience,” Dabi hissed, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your neck, leaving indents that would inevitably form into a collar of bruises. “You will obey me, or you’ll get punished.”

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and words refused to form. All you could do was nod apologetically with tears in your eyes. Your hands twisted into the velvet bed sheets beneath you, trying their hardest not to reach up and pull at the hand denying the fresh air you so badly needed.

“No need for tears, my muse,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to soften. Then his hand released you and the stolen air rushed back into your lungs. You sobbed in relief, choking out words of thanks to your teacher. Despite how much he scared you sometimes, you knew how lucky you were to have someone like him teaching you.

“I-I’m so sorry, M-Master,” you sobbed, still trying to catch your breath. “Please forgi—”

You were interrupted by a soothing, low voice, “Shh, you’re forgiven. But remember what I’ve told you about touching me. Your hands are to be kept to yourself at all times.”

A knuckle brushed across your cheek, picking up a stray tear.

“Now, my Little Virtuoso—I’ll teach you a new Aria. One of nothing but pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!! Thanks so much for reading! 💕


End file.
